


Doubtless

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Art Trade, Canon-Typical Violence, Crepes, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Self-Doubt, because this is a fic with ann, except I'm not, group support, slightly mentioned pegoryu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: Even after joining the Phantom Thieves, Makoto can't shake off the past. The things she knows she should have done, the way she's mistreated her friends and the other students. She learns that acceptance needs time, but until it hits, she knows she's finally found a place to be.





	Doubtless

**Author's Note:**

> Another art trade with mep, yay!!  
> I don't remember the exact prompt, but we decided on something around the lines of angsty MakoAnn, so here it is. <3 I'd say "sorry for forcing the PegoRyu in", but I'm not sorry so I won't. :P

She’s gasping for air before she’s even fully awake.

With eyes blown wide, breath hastily passing between her slightly parted, dry lips, and trembling fingers digging into the blanket as if her life depends on it, Makoto forces herself to calm down.

 _It’s only a dream_ , she thinks. _It’s long but over._

But even when she feels a hand reach out for hers, gives in to the comforting touch and leans into the hug she’s being pulled into, knowing that it was only a nightmare doesn’t help keeping her from biting her lip anxiously, doesn’t help her keep up the composure or pride or self-respect she’s normally known for.

Sinking into the loving arms of the one person she believes she deserves the least, Makoto feels weak, tired, unable to deal with her conflicting feelings. She wants to give in — wants to return the hug, wants to fall right back asleep and hope for a better dream — but at the same time, it haunts her; the memory of contempt, of disdain in their eyes. It’s like she’s being thrown back into a time where she wasn’t herself, and it’s so foreign that she despises herself for it immensely.

“It’s alright,” she hears a soft, comforting voice right against her ear, feels warm lips trail down her cheek and leans into the touch and nods, but closes her eyes warily. Is it really? Does she have the right to pretend that things are okay, to accept her new friends, even though she has willingly let horrible things happen to them, has _accepted_ them to happen as long as they played in her own favor?

Sometimes, these days, she doesn’t understand it, how her career and success could have ever been more important to her than the lives and futures of so many of her fellow students.

“Do you think they blame me?” she asks silently, thinking of all the people that were hurt by her choice not to step in, to look away and pretend it was their own fault. It doesn’t matter who — Mishima, Suzui, or even Ann, Akira and Ryuji; Makoto knows that there’s no way for her to undo the past and prevent the things that happened to them due to her own selfishness.

“Don’t be silly,” Ann answers cheerily and chuckles. “Shiho would never blame anyone but herself — which is way beside the point that _I’m_ the one who let her down the most, not you. And Ryuji? He’s way too loud and vulgar, but ultimately, he’s the kindest guy you’ll ever meet. Apparently, he let his former teammates beat him up so they felt better. Can you believe that? Because I can’t.”

She groans, causing Makoto to laugh. She believes it, because she remembers the effort Ryuji put into finding evidence about Kamoshida’s countless abuses, never giving up even when they told him to stay away. It’s something she admits she still envies, the will to selflessly help others.

“I suppose you’re right,” she finally manages to answer, takes a deep breath and hums shortly. She’s still far from forgiving herself for the past, but at least now she’s trying, right? She’s trying to help people, both with her newfound powers in the metaverse _and_ in reality — be it trying to introduce Futaba back into school, studying for exams with Ryuji or changing the hearts of corrupt people. That _is_ most likely enough to justify cutting herself some slack, but—

“None of us are perfect, Makoto.”

Ann combs through her hair slowly, hugs her tightly and hums as if asking for agreement. Of course Makoto knows that; knows how unrealistic and unachievable the concept of perfection is, knows that she can only move forward, knows that mourning the past will only further taint the future.

“I guess you’re right,” she admits, buries her face in the crook of Ann’s neck and nods. “It’s just still very hard to accept.”

At least with the feeling of being cherished, wanted, _loved_ for a change, falling back asleep isn’t half as hard as it used to be.

 

* * *

 

The throwback comes soon, and it comes heavily.

It’s a fairly difficult day in Mementos from the get-go — horrible weather making the shadows extremely aggressive, but there’s a very important target that _needs_ to be taken care of.

Either way, it’s not much of a surprise that they end up being out of breath when they reach the last station before the area that their target resides in. Akira looks conflicted — obviously; he knows they have no choice but to take care of this target as soon as possible, but he also knows that they’re all exhausted already. It’s not an easy choice, and for once, Makoto is glad she doesn’t have to make it for him, because she doesn’t feel in any kind of way ready to risk either the lives of her friends or that of the victim that needs their help.

“We’re close to the target,” Morgana suddenly says, to no one’s surprise. “Should we push through?”

“We have to.”

_We have to._

The ride is painfully slow, painfully long, because they decide to dodge as many shadows as possible. It’s extremely stressful, but they manage to conserve most of their leftover strength for the target, and after short consideration, Akira decides to put Ryuji, Ann and Makoto next to him on the front.

It’s as good of an idea as it is a bad one.

For the longest part, the fight goes surprisingly well — they bring the enemy down to low health quickly, abusing its weakness against fire and letting countless physical hits rain down on it. Makoto knows that it’s good she and Ann are around, because that way they can at least keep the team’s health up decently.

Except then, just when the enemy is about to faint, it decides to go down with a blast. Makoto doesn’t even have the time to react; all she sees is Ryuji taking the blow for Akira, all she hears is Ann shouting their names, all she feels is the vibration of the impact flooding her own bones.

Then, there’s a short silence. It’s like a calm before the storm.

Ryuji goes down, Akira is by his side in a heartbeat. Ann already rushes over to support them, and the rest of the team audibly closes in. Makoto does the same, feels her legs move on their own accord, lets out the breath she wasn’t aware she’s been holding when she sees that Ryuji’s apparently fine—

She freezes when she sees his face.

It’s not that he seems severely hurt — apparently, he managed to shield his face from the attack; he’s breathing, talking, so that’s alright. Except nothing is, because his fingers are buried into his shin, he’s biting his lower lip and desperately holding back tears. She’s not sure if he’s in pain, but there’s something with his leg, something _bad_ , and she has a hunch about it, shakes her head numbly, tries to understand—

It’s his bad leg. He’s staring down on the femur, shaking his head at the words Akira whispers in his ear, fighting against something inevitable, something that’s already been done. Makoto takes a deep breath, moves in closer and drops to one knee right next to them.

“I-it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Skull.”

She reaches out, places her hand on top of his, but stops right before casting a Diarama when she sees his face. This injury isn’t anything they can fix with metaverse powers — it’s his past catching up, reality haunting him down and leaving him immobile, the one thing that they all know scares him the most.

Makoto feels like she’s suffocating.

All out of sudden, it’s there — the self-loathe, the shame, the guilt. She wants to cry, wants to tell him how sorry she is, that she knows it’s her fault and that if she could, she’s do _anything_ to help. But she’s rational, collected, and there’s absolutely no logical reason to stay here any longer and risk their lives, so all she ends up saying is:

“We need to get you out. Fox, can you help?”

“Of course.”

Yusuke and Akira help Ryuji to the Mona-car against his protest, he fights with Ann who tells him to shut up and appreciate the help, and Makoto finds herself staying behind in order to watch over them from the distance. At least that’s what she tells herself, because in all honesty, she’s just scared. Scared of causing more harm, scared of the blame being put on her for letting this happen. A small voice somewhere in her head tells her how unrealistic that is, but it’s so much quieter than the loud screams of hate and sorrow suffocating her.

She takes the wheel without being told to, because she knows Akira won’t leave Ryuji’s side right now.

They stay in silence until it’s almost enough to drown them. Then, it’s _Morgana_ out of all of them who speaks up.

“You shouldn’t take any hits you’re weak to, Skull!”

For once, it’s not an insult, but an order. Makoto swallows, her lips a thin line, eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t even realize that. She never had any control over the situation like she normally does, because her mind was so clouded with everything wearing her down. She shakes her head, evades a shadow in the last moment and considers just speeding into the one right after it, but she knows being suicidal with her teammates around is nothing short of selfish.

She calms down the second she feels Ann’s hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

Her voice is a whisper, her words soft and considerate and soothing, but Makoto isn’t sure if she’s able to believe that. Even if weak to the blow, she doesn’t believe it would have rendered Ryuji unable to move on his own accord if it weren’t for her own terrible, despicable mistakes, her selfishness, her rude, arrogant, mindless attitude.

“I hope you’re right,” she manages to press out just before they reach the safe room, but when she sees the desperate look on Ryuji’s face through the rear view mirror, sees his angry frown and the way his lips tremble, she can’t deny not being all-too-sure about that.

 

* * *

 

They end up getting ramen as soon as Ryuji feels confident enough to get up from the stairs he’s been sitting on ever since they left Mementos.

It’s a measure to cheer him up, to try and help him forget that things like this are something he might have to get used to. While he manages to smile within minutes of being able to walk again, Makoto can’t even force herself not to frown. As much as she wants to, she can’t just accept this. She needs to address the topic.

That’s why when they leave the place, she stops, harrumphs and waits until everyone has turned around to her, hands clenched to fists and lips shut tightly. If she doesn’t do it now, her weakening coordination skills could end up getting them into serious trouble, and the last thing she needs on her account is failing the party and causing them all to _die_.

“There’s something I’d like to say,” she starts, looking at everyone shortly before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath and nodding to herself. She’s used to speaking up, right? She can do this. It’s for them, after all.

“I never properly apologized for the pain I caused all of you. I shouldn’t have taken it for granted to be part of the group. I’m deeply sorry for everything.”

She looks at Ryuji the longest, the way he puts his weight on his left leg to ease the pain. There’s no doubt he’s faking his current cheeriness at least a little, because how happy can you be when you’re suffering?

Even so, though, he’s the one to say something first.

“Is this, uh… about my leg? ‘Cause if so, I don’t think you gotta’pologize or anythin’.”

“But I didn’t do anything when—”

“When a teacher forced his horrible methods on the students and even the parents tolerated it,” Akira interrupts her quickly and shakes his head. But that’s not how it is, that’s not how it _went_ . Sure, maybe the adults didn’t try hard enough to do something, but perhaps _she_ could have done _something_ , even if only by being there as mental support, by showing the students there’s _someone_ who cares, _someone_ who will help them and be on their side.

But instead, she did _nothing_. How could they possibly not blame her for that?

“I could have—”

“It ain’t yer fault, Makoto. Bastard would’ve broken my stupid leg either way, let’s be real here. Let’s be glad he didn’t turn against you, too.”

She can’t _believe_ it.

“I...don’t deserve any of this,” she tries again, looks at her hands in shame and flinches when Ann bumps into her side with a supportive smile.

“Yeah, you definitely do. Said it before, will say it again: None of us are perfect. You’re a great ally, and an even better friend. Promise.”

She nods slowly, looks away and takes another deep breath. Then she looks back up, nods more firmly and smiles. It’s thin, it’s wary, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“Thanks, everyone.”

They return the smile eagerly, and for now, that’s enough.

…

That, however, doesn’t save her from the tight hug she’s being pulled into when Ann forces her to get some crepes instead of going home immediately. It’s not that Makoto really minds it, but she knows she’s in for a lecture — which is a little funny, because normally, that’s her job.

“So,” Ann starts after taking a first bite of her crepe, smiling happily and leaning their shoulders together. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 _No_ , Makoto thinks, but smiles without saying it out loud. She’s well aware of that not being an option.

“I’m trying,” she says quietly and sighs, poking her own dessert with her fork. “I suppose it was just unfortunate that _Ryuji_ took this blow, out of everyone.”

“Yeah, he’s almost as self-destructive as you are, sometimes.”

“What—?”

But Ann chuckles already, puts her fork down and reaches for Makoto’s hand, intertwines their fingers and brings them up between their faces.

“I never thought _I_ would be the one to lecture you like Akira lectures him. But I’ll do it, if that’s what it needs.”

She leans in, places a small, innocent kiss somewhere between Makoto’s lips and cheeks, and manages to make her smile with ease. She loves this — the genuine support, the caring, discreet affection, the way Ann manages to scold her without making her feel bad.

It makes Makoto feel needed. _Desired_ , even.

“Thanks, Ann,” she says a little shyly, feels the warmth of blushing on her cheeks and turns her head to return the kiss fully. Ann gasps in return, because she knows Makoto is insecure when it comes to affection, but today, she can’t seem to care about that. With Ann, she’s at home.

And that’s all she needs.


End file.
